“Made a 2 p.m. appointment for Saturday at Daly City DMV. Got there at 1:45, was out at 2:20!” Molinari, exulting in this, calls it “unheard of speed.”

She’d better be careful about boasting. In keeping with Kathleen Pender’s stories about the subject, I believe it’s a violation of California Vehicle Code.

Although there’s no good time that could measure up to 35 minutes at the DMV, August is at the height of summer season frolics:

•When Emil Miland arrived at Bear Valley to play cello in the BV Music Festival, he “was alarmed,” said his friend Candace Forest, “by how strange and rather unmusical Nico, his 300-year-old Grancino cello, sounded.” Miland called Bryan Campbell, to whom he refers as his “cello doctor,” and was advised to stay calm, turn on a hot shower and take the cello into the steamed-up bathroom (just the advice that parents are given when their kids get croup).

“Sure enough,” writes Forest, “after several ‘spa treatments,’ Nico began to sing as sweetly as ever.” Upon which the cello “sang” in the world premiere of David Conté’s Concerto for Cello and Orchestra, which was conducted by Michael Morgan.

•Andy Valvur forwards a report from Deutsche Welle about two elderly gentlemen who escaped from the nursing home in Germany where they’d been living to attend Wacken Open Air, Europe’s biggest heavy metal festival. They were “reluctant to leave,” said the report, so police escorted them home. They seemed to have had such a good time, reported a police officer, that “the care home quickly organized a return transport after police picked them up.”

•Dan St. Paul and his wife went to see the Electric Light Orchestra at Oracle Arena, after which they (and a big Baby Boomer horde) took BART home. It occurred to him that the two teenagers on the train must have thought the music-lovers were occupants of a rest home on a field trip.

•Steph and Ayesha Curry brought their whole family, including 1-month-old Canon, to dinner at Waterbar on Saturday, Aug. 4. I am told they dined on oysters, squid, caviar, fish ’n’ chips and kids’ ravioli. The adults drank Lawn Party cocktails, and I’m assuming that after his order of squid, Canon drank milk.

•Overheard by April Orcutt in Taormina, Sicily, a man sighs as his female companion enters the gift shop: “A second visit portends a purchase, I fear.”

•At the corner of North Point and Hyde, Bob Mateo overheard a family of tourists in conversation. “Why do we hike everywhere?” a girl of 6 or so asked her parents. “So we can see San Francisco,” answered the mom. “But it’s not fun,” said the daughter. Can’t someone from SF Travel hand that kid a lollipop?

•Carey Perloff, having just left her post at ACT, Facebooked from London, where she went to see a Saturday performance of “Othello”: “First theatrical adventure in London. A matinee at the Globe and so hot several people passed out and had to be carted off!” (I checked the temperature in London that day, and the high was 81 degrees, not all that scorching. I dunno, maybe the passing out has to do with Brexit.)

Play it again, Sam:

•Is the approach of Burning Man the reason that all those masks and steampunk-type hats are on display at every Goodwill in the city? asks Adda Dada. This isn’t the kind of thing that people find in their attics. Apparently, some business went kerflooey and the owners donated all the merchandise. (As an anthropologist specializing in all things Goodwill, I’m remembering that these goods were for sale there last Christmas, too.)

Which brings to mind a sartorial question: Is wearing a Goodwill hat to Burning Man the epitome of reverse/recycling chic, or is it an indicator of lack of imagination, like store-bought premade Halloween costumes?

•Meanwhile, there is only one degree of separation between #MeToo and recycling: The constantly intriguing repurposedMaterials business is offering leftovers from the “House of Cards” set, subflooring used in a variety of sets that had been built in warehouses in Joppa, Md. The series was canceled after its star, Kevin Spacey, was accused of being a sexual predator.

Leah Garchik washed up on the shores of Fifth and Mission in 1972, began her duties as a part-time temporary steno clerk, and ascended the journalistic ladder. Over the years, she has served as writer, reviewer, editor and columnist. She is the author of two books, “San Francisco: Its Sights and Secrets” and “Real Life Romance."

She is an avid knitter, a terrible accordion player, a sporadic tweeter and a pretty good speller.